LECTORIUS. Why, how now, Marius, will you mate us thus, That with content adventure for your love? Why, noble youth, resolve yourself on this, That son and father both have friends in Rome, That seek old Marius' rest and your relief. YOUNG MARIUS. Lectorius, friends are geason[117] now-a-days, And grow to fume, before they taste the fire. Adversities bereaving man's avails, They fly like feathers dallying in the wind: They rise like bubbles in a stormy rain, Swelling in words, and flying faith and deeds. CETHEGUS. How fortunate art thou, my lovely lord, That in thy youth may'st reap the fruits of age; And having lost occasion's holdfast now, May'st learn hereafter how to entertain her well. But sudden hopes do swarm about my heart: Be merry, Romans; see, where from the coast A weary messenger doth post him fast. _Enter_ CINNA'S SLAVE, _with a letter enclosed, posting in haste_. LECTORIUS. It should be Cinna's slave, or else I err, For in his forehead I behold the scar, Wherewith he marketh still his barbarous swains. YOUNG MARIUS. O, stay him, good Lectorius, for me-seems His great post-haste some pleasure should present. LECTORIUS. Sirrah, art thou of Rome? SLAVE. Perhaps, sir, no. LECTORIUS. Without perhaps, say, sirrah, is it so? SLAVE. This is Lectorius, Marius' friend, I trow; Yet were I best to learn the certainty, Lest some dissembling foes should me descry. [_Aside_. YOUNG MARIUS. Sirrah, leave off this foolish dalliance, Lest with my sword I wake you from your trance. SLAVE. O happy man, O labours well-achiev'd! How hath this chance my weary limbs revived: O noble Marius! O princely Marius! YOUNG MARIUS. What means this peasant by his great rejoice? SLAVE. O worthy Roman, many months have past Since Cinna, now the consul and my lord, Hath sent me forth to seek thy friends and thee. All Lybia, with our Roman presidents, Numidia, full of unfrequented ways, These weary limbs have trod to seek you out, And now, occasion pitying of my pains, I late arriv'd upon this wished shore, Found out a sailor born in Capua, That told me how your lordship pass'd this way. YOUNG MARIUS. A happy labour, worthy some reward. How fares thy master? What's the news at Rome? SLAVE. Pull out the pike from off this javelin-top, And there are tidings for these lords and thee. YOUNG MARIUS. A policy beseeming Cinna well: Lectorius, read, and break these letters up.[118] LETTER. To his Honourable friend Marius the younger, greeting.